


rhodiola rosea  [ r'as al ghul x omc ]

by orphan_account



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Male Character, Brotherly Love, Bruce Wayne Has a Sibling, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Homophobic Language, Loss of Trust, M/M, Mercenaries, Movie 1: Batman Begins (2005), My First Work in This Fandom, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Possessive Behavior, Protective Bruce Wayne, Psychological Trauma, R'as Al Ghul Lives, R'as Al Ghul is not nice, Sarcasm, Shit is wild, Trust Issues, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, dcu - Freeform, prisons, the league of shadows - Freeform, yeah its gay what about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27940232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Victor, a mouthy ex-mercenary, finds himself in a Bhutanese prison for murder. Alongside him is a man named Bruce, who Victor quickly befriends, although he's a rather strange man. When the two of them get into a fight with a few other prisoners and are sent to solitary together, they meet a strange man in a suit, a man called Ducard.Ducard tells Bruce that if he can pick some flower and climb a mountain, he'll be taken into the "League of Shadows" and fight crime and whatever. And he isn't interested in Victor at all. But Vic's always loved a challenge, and he's very good at crashing parties. The League of Shadows is going to train him, too, whether they like it or not.
Relationships: R'as Al Ghul/Original Male Character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys! i'm spencer and this is my first work for this fandom. i think it's going to be pretty cool! i saw batman begins and knew there was room for an oc of mine, so here we are! 
> 
> blanket trigger/content warnings for this fic: canon-typical violence, family issues, death, swearing (a lot of it), some homophobia/homophobic language, and general hurtful words (the league of shadows is not nice). if there are other blanket warnings i remember, i'll add them. anything specific to a chapter will be in the beginning chapter notes. also, some (a lot) of dialogue is lifted from the movie, seeing as this is essentially batman begins but with an idiot OC involved. 
> 
> and yes, i did write this initially because liam neeson is hot, what about it? *dies a little more inside*

Bruce jolts awake on his cot next to me. I'm sitting a little ways from him, making sure nobody jumps him while he's asleep. Mutual protection. I'm up early all the time anyway. 

"You have a dream?" I ask. 

"Nightmare," he replies, sitting up on the bed. 

Bruce is... a character. He's got shaggy black-brown hair and pale skin, and a brown beard. His eyes are haunted, as if he's seen more than his fair share of disturbing things. He can't be much older than me, but I've never asked, so I don't know. He's smart, and you can hear it in how he talks. He was educated, for sure. I'm smart too, but I sure as hell never went to school and it shows. 

Me? I'm Victor. Everybody always pauses and waits for my last name, and nuts to you, because I don't have one. Literally. I've always been "Victor", or "Vic", or maybe the occasional "dumbass". I'm a mercenary, or I was one. I'm here because I got caught on a job a while back, a murder, 'cause I got cocky and slipped up. A few months after I came, Brucie here stumbled in. I knew he'd be jumped immediately, so when we became cellmates we decided on our "mutual protection" gig that we've got going on. 

I toss my head to get my oddly-colored strawberry blonde hair out of my face. It's been growing out for a while, since I had a buzz-cut when I came in. Now it hangs around my face, brushing at my ears. 

"Worse than this place?" I joke. Bruce just looks at me, then past me, over my shoulder at the guy in the cell next to ours. He's a punk, always looking to beat the shit out of us whenever he gets the chance. Both of us, but especially Bruce, for whatever reason. Always up on the wrong side of the bed. 

He gets up, shucking the blanket off his shoulders, and I stand as well. It _is_ time for breakfast, after all. If you could call it that. We go out into the damp yard, with the mud and the cold, and the guys that work here serve us literal water and shit that looks like oats. It tastes absolutely flavorless and the texture makes me gag. 

People watch us. Other prisoners watch as we walk out from where they're bent over their work. Soldiers watch from the walls. And as I look back at them, the wind bites at me through my layers of clothing. As we walk towards the stand where we get breakfast, I lean in from where I stand behind Bruce and mumble- 

"They're going to fight you." 

"Again?" He replies. 

"Until they kill you," I say, lowering my voice further. 

"Can they kill me _before_ breakfast?" he quips as his bowl is filled, but there's no humor in his voice. I don't laugh for once, even though I'm known as the guy who's always up for a joke around here. 

And then the guy from before whirls and smacks Bruce's bowl out of his hands. His expression is furious, but then he smiles, and _shit_ that might be even more frightening. 

"You are in hell, little man," he says. His smile gets wider and he looks positively deranged. I tense just as he lashes out, punching Bruce right in the face. He goes crashing into the stand, and the man grabs him by the hair and lifts him up, baring his teeth. "And _I_ am the devil." He decks him in the mouth again and Bruce goes down to all fours. He wipes his mouth as people jeer around us. 

"You're not the devil," he says calmly. The man spits on the ground as he says it. "You're _practice_." And then the guy punches again, but Bruce ducks and punches him good, then hitting him with his head. The guy goes down. I take a step back, hands shaking. I want to take this guy down, but this _is_ Bruce's fight. Everyone needs to see him win and know that he can hold his own in a fight. 

But I do know how I can help. When one of the dude's cronies rushes him, I drop my bowl and haul him off Bruce, punching him hard as I go. He drops, but there are more people coming at us now. I grin as Bruce slams one's head into the counter. I kick another who tries to come up from behind. At least five guys charge him, but Bruce makes short work of one so I focus instead on preventing more people from joining in. 

Bruce does _something_ with his feet and suddenly he and the guys are barreling through the railing and down the hill, into the- mud. Great. I follow, running and tackling one guy to the ground and decking him to keep him there. Three more get up and try to hit him, but he takes on two and I grab the third, yanking him back and hitting him in every spot I can reach. He drops as Bruce- good sweet Jesus, Bruce is like an animal, throwing people around and slamming them to the ground. One more gets up and I kick him dead in the chest, and again in the jaw when he collapses. Bruce is on top of someone, slamming his fist into their face.

I hear gunshots- the soldiers. Two grab Bruce, and two grab me. The lead soldier yells- 

"Solitary!" 

"Why?" Bruce demands. I just go slack in the grip of the soldiers. Solitary is better than beatings. 

"For protection," the other man snaps back. 

"I don't need protection!" He argues. 

"Protection for them!" the soldier jerks his head back at the crowd. I look- there are at least seven men on the ground. I let myself smile. We won. I'm covered in mud and my hair is a mess and I took a couple nasty hits, but we won. Those fuckers can bite me. 

"Put them together," the same soldier orders his men. "We need more empty cells." They follow orders, taking us inside and flinging us into a (thankfully dry) solitary cell. Bruce stands back up. I just stay on the floor where I dropped, flipping onto my back so I can stare at the ceiling. 

" _Ow_ ," I say vehemently. Bruce just walks to the other side of the room. 

Just as he turns his back, though, we hear a deep voice coming from a corner of the room. A corner closest to _me._

"Are you so desperate to fight criminals that you lock yourself in to take them on one at a time?" I sit up and scoot backwards, eyeing the guy and trying to figure out if he can kick me from where he's standing. He's tall, and slim, and wearing a- a _suit_? What the hell kind of joint does he think this is? His brown hair is combed away from his face, and he has a goatee with specks of grey in it. His face is angular, his eyes sharp, and I realize quickly that he isn't talking to me. He's _watching_ Bruce. 

"Actually, there were-" Bruce pauses. "Seven of them." He doesn't even look surprised. I move as quietly as possible to press my back against the wall and grit my teeth as pain washes over me. Someone got me in the back. I close my eyes and tip my head back against the wall.

"I counted six, Mr. Wayne." 

_Wayne._ The name is familiar, although I'm not too sure how I know it. But instead of trying to work that out, my brain-to-mouth filter gives up completely and I find myself saying- 

"Seven. I got the first guy. It's six if you wanna be-" I wave my hand vaguely. "Particular." I don't open my eyes but the silence that follows my words tells me that I've got his attention. But I'm too tired to do anything about it, so I take a deep breath and keep quiet. 

"How do you know my name?" Bruce asks after a moment. 

"The world is too small for someone like _Bruce Wayne_ to disappear. No matter how deep he chooses to sink." 

Bruce Wayne. 

Wayne Enterprises. 

My eyes fly open. Bruce is fucking Bruce _Wayne_? The billionaire from Gotham? Where I used to live? What the fuck is he doing in a fucking Bhutanese prison then? But I don't say anything, and stare at the floor. I want to know more.

"Who are you," he says. 

"My name is merely Ducard, but I speak for R'as Al Ghul, a man greatly feared by the criminal underworld," the tall man says. The names are making my head throb. Maybe I took more hits than I registered. "A man who can offer you a path." Of course. Everybody wants something. 

"What makes you think I need a path?" Bruce asks, and I have to stifle a laugh. _You're here, buddy. You need something, alright. Maybe mental help. _

"Someone like you is only here by choice," Ducard says. "You have been exploring the-" he pauses, " _Criminal fraternity,_ but, whatever your original intentions- you _have_ become truly lost." 

A pause. I let my eyes slip shut again. 

"And what path can _R'as Al Ghul_ offer?" 

_Drugs,_ I think. _Probably drugs and money. Some shady business. By the name alone I'd say he probably runs a cult._

"The path of a man who shares his hatred for evil," Ducard says. I frown, eyes still closed. Not what I was expecting. "And wishes to serve _true_ justice." Okay. Well, now the cult thing is sounding a little more promising. And his next words just prove my point. "The path of the League of Shadows." 

This time I have to shove my knuckles in my mouth to shove back a laugh. The league of fucking _what_? I open my eyes to watch some more, and though neither of them look at me, I know they are aware of my actions. 

And Bruce chuckles, so I'm not alone there. "You're vigilantes." 

"No, no, no," Ducard corrects. "A vigilante is just a man, lost in the scramble for his own gratification. He can be destroyed, or locked up." He crouches down to meet Bruce's eyes. "But. If you make yourself _more_ than just a man, if you devote yourself to an ideal, and if they can't stop you," he pauses and his voice drops to a whisper. "Then you become something else entirely." 

"Which is?" Bruce mirrors his whisper.

"Legend, Mr. Wayne." Ducard stands and walks to the door. "Tomorrow you will be released. If you are bored of brawling with petty thieves and want to achieve something, there is a rare blue flower that grows on the Eastern slopes. Pick one of these flowers. If you can carry it to the top of the mountain-" he stops. "You may find what you were looking for in the first place." 

Ducard knocks on the door twice, but Bruce stops him. "And... what was I looking for?" 

The man turns. "Only you can know that." 

He leaves, and there's silence for a moment before I bust out into laughter. 

"What the hell was _that_?" I gasp.

"An offer," Bruce says, eyes fixed on the closed door. 

"Please don't tell me you're going to go through with this." 

"I've wanted to fight crime since I was 8," he says, turning to me. "This is my chance to do it, or at the very least _try_ to." 

"You're in prison," I say. "And this sounds incredibly shady, and believe me, I know 'shady'." 

"I know you do," he replies, "But this is my chance. And if I'm released tomorrow, what other options do I have?" 

"True," I nod. "I think it might be a cult or something, though. That 'true justice' bit had _all_ my alarm bells going off." 

"What other options do I have?" Bruce repeats. 

"Well, if you're going, I think I should go with you." 

"What?" he turns to face me. 

"What?" I echo. "It's a good idea. Then you have backup if the Cult of Crazies decide to, like, ritualistically sacrifice you or something." 

He laughs dryly. "They won't." 

"They might." 

"How are you going to get out anyway? You aren't being released." he asks. 

"I'm gonna use the oldest trick in the book," I smirk. "Gonna beat up a guard and steal his outfit." 

"No," Bruce says, but he's grinning. 

"Yes," I smile back, "And you're gonna help me." 

"I was planning on it, yeah," he snickers. "What if they don't take you?" 

"Easy. I'll make them." 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Bruce scale the mountain, but when they arrive, they start to realize that this is might be a more permanent choice than they thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys! second chapter! i'm excited! 
> 
> no specific tw's for this chapter :)

I hit the ground with a thud. I hear Bruce grunt as he falls too, just behind me. 

It wasn't hard to jump a guard to get his clothes. We picked one that was about my size so his uniform would fit. I escorted Bruce to the car, and of course, my general disheveled state gave me away, just a little. But the soldiers driving the car that got us out this far didn't seem to want to take me back, or even chastise me for attempting an escape, so they tossed me out too. 

We're at the Eastern slopes now, and Bruce looks up at the mountain in the distance. 

"I'm guessing that's it?" I ask. 

"Yeah." 

And we go. It's a long walk just to get to the damned flowers. My toes are absolutely frozen by now, and I make some unfunny joke about how far we've walked as I lean down and pick a pretty blue flower with shaking fingers. Bruce lets out an exhale that could be a laugh, but getting a good reaction out of him is the absolute last thing on my mind. 

Then the wind turns to wind and snow, and oh god, I'm not prepared for this. We pull each other up when we fall, or when we can't get up and over a nasty rock. But the freezing temperature and the snow is sapping at my strength. I have to make sure I blink quickly or my eyes will close of their own volition. Can't let the numbness get deeper into me than it is, because the cold is deadly. 

We arrive at a village a while later. My muscles are screaming with pain, and I want to drop right where I stand, but I don't. I make sure Bruce is okay instead. The villagers look at us as we walk through, dashing into their houses. A child on a balcony sees me looking and runs inside, and if I had any energy left I'd wonder why, but right now all I can think is we're close. 

And we are. Except what stands in our way is the large, steep mountain. I sigh, glance at Bruce, and haul myself up onto the first rock. As we go, I make a point not to look down, but not to look up, either. I'm not too scared of heights, but I'll get dizzy and disoriented if I look either way. So I look straight at the rock, and climb. My fingers cramp and then go numb, and the cold only gets worse the higher up we go. 

I pull Bruce up a rock as the snow swirls around us. He walks a few steps forward, and stops, staring at something. I look up. It's two wooden double doors. They're large and carved ornately, and if I look a ways to the right, I can see many connected buildings with triangular roofs on the side of the mountain. 

"Holy fuckin' shit," I mumble. Bruce just nods breathlessly. "Okay. You go in first. Ducard or whoever, he wanted you. I'll follow you." 

Bruce looks over at me. "It's not too late to turn back." 

I shake my head, smiling even though my cheeks hurt. "If you think I walked through this hellscape and up this mountain only to turn back, you're an idiot. Go in." 

He snorts and does so, trudging up the steps and banging on the door, once, and then twice. I follow, quietly standing beside him. And then the doors swing open by themselves. 

Bruce walks in, albeit slowly, and I slip in after him. I let him take the lead as I try to blend in with the shadows of the room. There are candles on tables in the first room, which leads directly into a much larger one. That one houses a man sitting on a just as ornately carved wooden chair. I wonder idly how long this guy's been sitting on that chair waiting for us. 

"R'as Al Ghul?" Bruce asks, voice rough. 

The doors creak closed behind us, a man in black armor settling a beam into place to keep them closed. More men in armor come from hallways and corners that I didn't notice earlier. They all look menacing, weapons on belts and in hands. 

"Wait." 

Ducard. I let out a silent breath. Thank fuck. We won't be assassinated today. 

Until the guy on the chair, apparently R'as Al Ghul, with a bald head and a weird beard, starts speaking in a strange language. _Oh-kay. We might still be assassinated._

"What are you seeking?" Ducard asks Bruce. 

"I seek-" Bruce takes a breath. "Means to fight injustice. To turn fear against those who prey on the fearful." He reaches into his coat and pulls out the flower, wilted from the cold. Ducard takes it, examines it and puts it in his lapel. I have to look away. That has no business being hot at all. I'm jolted out of my thoughts by the man on the chair speaking in his weird language again. 

"To manipulate the fears in others..." Ducard says, and I think he's translating. "You must first master your own. Are you ready to begin?" 

Bruce says breathlessly, "I can- I can barely stand-" 

"Death does not wait for you to be ready!" And Ducard, what the fuck, he lands a hard kick at Bruce's chest and he goes flying backwards with an umph sound. I clench my fists. Okay, fuck you, dude. Try that again and I'll beat the shit out of you myself. Well. I'll try, even though I can barely stand, either. "Death is not considerate or fair!" Another kick. "And make no mistake. Here you face death." He aims another kick but Bruce sits up and catches his foot. He gets up. He's going to fight. Looks like I don't have to intervene just yet after all. 

"Tiger." Ducard growls, doing some weird arm maneuver and getting Bruce still for a moment. "Jujitsu," he continues, elbowing him in the stomach. I tense. "Panther." Another flurry of blocks and punches and then he's got Bruce by the throat. "You are skilled. But this is not a dance." And he uses his head and just clocks Bruce. His knee jams into his stomach and he goes down to the floor. 

The man in the chair is watching their every move. 

Okay, fuck no. I break out of the shadows, darting past the soldiers who, for whatever reason, haven't seen me yet. And dude, really. If you're highly skilled ninja cultists, or whatever, shouldn't you notice some idiot in too many layers standing in a dark corner? 

I drop to my knees beside Bruce. He's on his front, so I roll him over and check to see that his face is okay- his nose is bleeding a little. I grit my teeth. Not many other external injuries that I can see. But there is dead silence for a moment.

A soldier shifts. I take a breath. I should probably say something.

"And you are?" Ducard asks, nothing but calm in his voice. 

"Victor," I say, pulling my flower out of my pocket and holding it out in his general direction. I'm not looking at him- I'm watching Bruce, whose eyes are wild and keep looking past me at the other man. I congratulate myself internally when my voice doesn't crack or shake as I say, "I was in the cell with Bruce. Yesterday." Don't pretend like you don't know me, Ducard. You saw me. 

"Did you know he was here?" he aims this next question at Bruce. 

"Y-Yes," he stutters. 

"You gonna take the flower or not?" I ask. It's easier to be a little shit when I don't have to look at the intimidating dude I'm talking to, who just beat up my friend. Easily. In a suit. I don't hear his footsteps, but I feel his fingertips brush mine as he takes the flower. I just nod and fix my eyes at a point near Bruce's head. 

"And you are... interested in our offer as well?" Ducard asks me. 

"I'm interested in whatever won't kill my friend, here," I say, looking over my shoulder at him. My flower is in his hand. I'm not sure why my first instinct is to find it. "And taking down bad guys." I add as a second thought. 

He gives a little huff of a laugh. I look back down at Bruce and hide a smile. It's a little ironic- I am one of the bad guys. But maybe this is my chance. Maybe this is my chance to be good. 

Can I be good, though? All the bad things I've done were to survive. I only killed the guy because I didn't want to be evicted. I only helped that guy from the mob once. That was to eat that week, because this world isn't cheap. 

And maybe I can justify those things. But I know I'm bad luck. It's been proven over and over again. Everyone I try to help, and everybody I choose to trust either turns their back when things get rough or ends up dead or hurt because of me. Do I trust myself enough to do this, to maybe have a place I belong in? Or do I choose the reasonable option, the obvious one, and leave Bruce here so I can't hurt him? And so he can't hurt me? 

Ducard makes the choice for me, but not in the way you'd think. He comes over and once again, he's looking at Bruce. I shift slightly to make room for him, but I don't leave. 

"You are afraid, Mr. Wayne," he says. "But not of me. Tell us, Mr. Wayne..." a moment of silence. He takes Bruce's flower and puts it back in his jacket. Pats it lightly. "What do you fear?" 

I sort of tune that out. I don't want to know what Bruce is afraid of. I don't want to accidentally use it against him someday. 

It's that thought that kicks me right in my metaphorical nuts- this is how I was thinking before, when I was alone. With other people, I could keep my distance subtly, keep them from knowing too much with jokes and banter. When I think like this, I shove away those people, cut them off, and argue that it's for the best. It's a bad place that I'd rather not be in, but the truth of it always rings clear- I don't trust myself to keep good things or good people in my life. I don't deserve them, because I will always ruin them. 

_I always ruin everything._

There's silence around me. I snap back to the present, where Ducard is eyeing Bruce appraisingly. He must have said something interesting. Too bad I missed it. 

"Then," he turns to me, and I tense, even though I'm ridiculously tired and in no shape to fight anyone. And he's done nothing to me yet. "What do you fear?" 

I blink. Open my mouth and close it again. Didn't I just have it? Why does it feel inadequate? 

"I-" I stop. I look down at the spot on the floor next to Bruce's head, just like before, and blurt it out, knowing I'll probably never be this honest again. "I'm afraid of having anything good in my life because I'll mess it up." It's almost a whisper. It is very hard to say out loud. 

"You cannot always be alone," he says softly, as if trying to console a little kid.

"I can try," I say as firmly as I can manage. I'm not looking at him, I feel too shaky. I feel as if I could be shattered with a word. I focus on the spot on the floor. 

Silence, but then a soldier gently moves me aside as two more pick up Bruce and take him down a hallway. Ducard stands, gripping my upper arm and pulling me up with him. When he's sure I can stand on my own, I look away and pretend not to notice how he's put my flower in his pocket. 

He takes me to a room, telling me Bruce's is right across from mine. I nod my thanks, noticing that the thoughts usually racing through my brain have slowed. I'm just drained and empty. 

After he leaves, I collapse on the bed, not bothering to take off my clothing. And I stare at the ceiling and wonder- 

_What happens now?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm starting to think the relationship between vic and r'as (ducard, at this point) oscillates between faithful student and angry rivals. i love the idea of theme songs, so maybe "Teeth" by 5 Seconds of Summer would work best XD 
> 
> leave a comment/kudos if you enjoyed, cause they make me aSCEND

**Author's Note:**

> this might not have frequent updates as i'm working on another fic! but that one is almost finished so hopefully more chapters will show up here soon. 
> 
> i'm a huge music nerd, and i make spotify playlists for everything. so when i inevitably make one for this fic, i'll put it here. (edit: here it is! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4V9TZLE6gLFF9pp1Xhx4Y6)
> 
> leave a comment/kudos if you liked this! they give me motivation to continue :) 
> 
> \- spence


End file.
